Photos
by SpecialParanoia
Summary: The tabletop was crowded to the point of overflowing, but he knew he could make room for one more. Post-Revelations. ONE-SHOT.


**A/N:** Tag to _Revelations_. Wanted to try my hand at a Gideon fic. Frankly, I'm a little surprised this hasn't been done, yet.

Inspired by _What Fresh Hell?_

**Disclaimer:** I own season one on DVD, the computer this was typed on, and a thesaurus. Need I say more?

**Photos**

The tabletop was cluttered to the point of overflowing, a sea of smiling faces and bright eyes that reminded Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon each time he stepped into his office why this job was still worth doing. Every one of the framed photographs represented a life saved by he and his team- a family reunited, a friend returned to the fold, a community restored- and though he only had a fraction of their successes portrayed on glossy film print, the good they did could just as easily be found in the continuing optimism and high spirits of the rest of the BAU. After a long and difficult case, it was a relief to come back to Quantico and watch the others gather their belongings and case files, bantering and smiling and teasing among themselves before leaving for some much deserved rest, content in the knowledge that they'd made a difference. It was something Gideon could count on and enjoy whenever the bad guy got his due.

Not so, tonight.

It was a somber, rag-tag looking bunch milling about down in the bullpen. Ordinarily, Gideon would chalk the unusual quiet up to the fact that their resident eccentric genius was nowhere to be seen. Just as often as he would end up the butt of any joke, the kid could light up the whole room with his innocent enthusiasm, teasing Morgan or performing his physics magic for the girls. There was always a perceptible shift in atmosphere when he'd leave the room- typically having finished his paperwork far ahead of the others, no matter how many files they slipped onto his desk- but this had nothing to do with buckling down and getting to work.

The kidnapping, the videos and live feed, the collective tension, the worry, the goddamn cemetery… even several hours spent watching him sleep the sleep of the exhausted and medicated wasn't enough to dispel the black cloud that hung over the remaining BAU members, Hotch having volunteered to drive his subordinate home from the airstrip.

Everyone had stayed in Georgia while Reid was confined to a hospital bed overnight for observation, choosing to stay in a nearby hotel so they could all travel home together when he was released. Despite surprisingly passionate protests from the traumatized young doctor, Gideon had stayed by his side for the duration, leaving only once for a quick shower and fresh clothes. By the time Reid was cleared to leave, the sun was already dipping towards the horizon and a chill had settled over the area.

He hadn't taken two steps out the door before the shivers set in, thin arms slowly wrapping themselves around an equally thin torso in a worn brown corduroy jacket. At once, all three of his male colleagues moved to take off their own coats, smiling guiltily as they caught sight of one another. Hotch was the fastest, shrugging out of the warm wool and draping it carefully around his youngest agent's bony shoulders in one fluid motion. Reid had merely blinked, a little startled at the sudden contact, muttering a quiet 'thanks' and ducking his head against a slight breeze, eyes distant and hooded.

The group hustled to the waiting SUVs, making the drive to the airstrip in near silence while the heater worked overtime. Still, every glance Morgan stole into the backseat showed his best friend huddled into himself looking impossibly small, fingers trembling ever so slightly against each other. He'd bet his entire life savings and then some that it wasn't the cold that kept those digits twitching, anymore, but whatever was running through that big brain of his. In fact, from what Morgan could see of his profile in the dimming light, Reid looked a little pink in the cheeks- no wonder, it had to be about seventy-five degrees inside the sport utility. He was sweating, himself, and couldn't wait to get onto the jet and out of his over-warm jacket.

The other car had arrived first, Hotch and Emily waiting on the tarmac to help carry their things while JJ and Garcia all but ran onto the jet, determined to the make the couch as comfortable and inviting as possible before Morgan manhandled the poor doctor onto it. Spencer didn't go down without a fight, albeit a halfhearted one, but once he was settled amidst the mounds of pillows and blankets that had appeared from God-knew-where it didn't take long for the eyes to close, soft snores drifting out into the cabin every so often.

No one said a word, perfectly content to just watch him sleep in comfortable silence until little more than halfway through the flight. Out of nowhere, JJ broke into a wide grin and giggled softly to herself, blushing lightly when she felt all eyes shift in her direction.

"Sorry. I was just thinking what a cute picture that would be," she explained, nodding toward the couch, "and how embarrassed he'd be if he heard me say that."

There were soft smiles of agreement all around, the tension finally dropping a notch. It was that moment, silently concurring with the media liaison as he watched the pile of blankets rise and fall in time with Reid's steady breathing, which brought Gideon straight to his office upon returning to Quantico.

The tabletop was cluttered to the point of overflowing, frames of all different kinds practically stacked atop one another, but he knew he could make room. It wasn't a matter of space, but rather of determination- something Jason Gideon wasn't likely to run out of anytime soon.

Jogging down the hallways, the senior agent was actually a little surprised to see white light pooling out from underneath the familiar office door. Knocking lightly, he had half a mind to abandon his errand for the night and order their resident technical analyst extraordinaire home immediately. He'd barely lowered his fist when the door swung open to reveal a rather perplexed Garcia.

"Sir? What are you still doing here?" she asked, brow furrowed. Gideon chuckled.

"I could ask you the same thing. Hotch was pretty clear about everyone going home and getting some real rest." It was Garcia's turn to chuckle.

"Yeah, well, I'd think that would include you, too, sir. What can I do ya' for at this time of…" she checked her watch, "morning? Really? Now when did that happen?"

"Another good question." Gideon smiled. The two lapsed into silence, waiting for the other to offer up something. Even though he'd been the one to come knocking, Garcia cracked first.

"Fine, fine, fine- the way I see it, I won't be sleeping tonight anyway, so I might as well be here getting something done, you know?"

Peeking over her curly blonde hair, Gideon could see only one monitor was actually turned on, and all he'd interrupted appeared to be a winning game of solitaire. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, and she ducked her head with a chagrined laugh.

"Never said I was succeeding. Just looking at one of these screens, now… well, work just isn't very appealing, either. But really, sir- what brings you by my neck of the woods at this ungodly hour?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a small favor. I need a picture, to add to my collection…" Garcia grinned widely, a knowing twinkle creeping into her bespectacled eyes.

"Updating the family photos, are we? I think I've got just the thing…"

* * *

A week later, Gideon was sitting at his desk reading over the report he'd finally finished, glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose, when a light knock brought his attention to the open door. Hotch stood just inside the entrance holding up a manila file folder.

"We have a new case. The team's already gathered in the round table room."

"Reid?" Gideon asked, leaning back in the old office chair. Hotch sighed, rubbing an eyebrow with his free hand.

"He's got another week of leave. After that, the psychologist already cleared him- with reservations. She knows as well as we do how stubborn the kid is. He won't be happy unless he's back to work." His colleague let out a grunt of agreement, tossing his spectacles onto the piles of paper before him. Hotch knew how he felt. It was frustrating enough knowing what Reid had been through, but no one was looking forward to watching him come back too early, burying himself in his work to avoid dealing with whatever had happened when the camera was off. At the same time, though, Hotch couldn't help but to want his genius back where they could keep a close eye on him- the sooner, the better.

With another small sigh, he turned to leave and join his team when he noticed the small table by the door had been rearranged since the last time he'd seen it. Looking closer, he realized the mess of photographs had been shuffled around to make room for a new face.

It was a candid shot, taken during a rare moment of downtime in the bullpen. Reid was sitting at his desk with a well-worn paperback in one hand and a chewed-up pencil twirling in the other, thoroughly engrossed in his reading. The picture was taken far enough away to be from the waist up, but close enough to see the smooth planes of his face beneath the lock of hair that had fallen over one eye. He was obviously relaxed, enjoying whatever missive had captured his attention so, and it was just so very _Reid,_ the usually stoic boss couldn't help but grin.

"It's a good picture, isn't it?" Gideon asked, suddenly right at his side.

"Very," Hotch agreed. "I think I remember when it was taken- Garcia was playing around with her new digital camera, right? She got a picture of almost everyone on the floor before we caught on." Gideon nodded an affirmative, a smile of his own playing on his lips. Hotch shook his head, the mirth never leaving his face even as he raised a warning finger.

"Just be careful that Reid doesn't notice it."

"In this mess? Not a chance," the older agent waved a hand, a little sparkle lighting up those dark eyes for the first time in a week. That sparkle turned wicked as he led Hotch out to the conference room with a warm, friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Even if he does, Garcia can make us all the copies we want…"

* * *

**A/N:** That took far too long to write…

If anyone's interested, I have another post-_Revelations_ fic rattling around upstairs. Just gotta' let me know, and I'll try to whip it up.


End file.
